


Push Pull

by wrongfun (scumtrout)



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, Angst, Codependency, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Rough Sex, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 00:30:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4500876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scumtrout/pseuds/wrongfun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-S1 AU where they both survive. Misery makes strange bedfellows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

They carve out a semblance of a life together, somewhere far away from people.

There is a cabin, on a hillside, surrounded by forest. The forest provides food. There is a small village a few miles away, so it's possible to trade meat and fur for tools, or alcohol, or even books.

Noatak repairs the cabin until it's habitable.

It should be a peaceful life.

The days pass without being counted, and Noatak forces himself to forget Republic City, and to appreciate the quiet, and to tolerate Tarrlok's moods. He concerns himself with hunting. He tells himself that he's escaped from things relatively unscathed.

He only feels a mix of relief and dread whenever he has to leave Tarrlok on his own.

\--

Things seem to improve, in time. At the very least, the two of them reach a point where they're both capable of maintaining a proper conversation, usually over a drink, as if they're actually friends.

They sit by the hearth one autumn night. They've grown accustomed to the darkness of the countryside once more, and the fire seems like it's both a necessity and a luxury; the surrounding forest means that they'll never have to worry about lack of fuel. The cabin is filled with flickering orange light and jumping shadows. 

The night seems to be going well until Tarrlok asks, "Don't you miss anyone?"

Noatak just gives Tarrlok a long look, and refills his own cup, and doesn't answer.

"I miss Tenzin, strangely enough," Tarrlok says. "I enjoyed disliking him. He was so inoffensive, in retrospect."

Noatak drinks his soju.

"I miss disliking people for stupid reasons," Tarrlok continues.

Noatak searches for a way to steer the conversation away from the past. With anyone else, it'd be easy, but Tarrlok has a knack for thinking two steps ahead of him.

"I miss..." Tarrlok trails off, then seems to forget what he was saying. He leans against Noatak and rests his head on his shoulder; over the past two months, Tarrlok has become much more generous about making physical contact, although Noatak still doesn't know what triggered this. "Wait. I think I was going to say that I miss working. I miss working. All we do is sleep and eat. Well. All _I_ do is sleep and eat. I'm not always sure what you do."

"You don't just sleep and eat. You sleep, eat, and complain," Noatak says, even though there's an 85% chance that Tarrlok will use it as an excuse to launch into a diatribe about their living conditions.

"True," Tarrlok says. He yawns. Perhaps he's saving the diatribe for when he's sober. "Still, whenever I complain, you get to look stoic and patient in comparison, and we can go back to believing that you're the sensible one."

Noatak definitely doesn't reply to that.

Tarrlok sits up, and leans away from Noatak. His eyelids are heavy, and he gives Noatak a morose little smile. "Hey. Let me look at you."

"What?" says Noatak.

Tarrlok reaches out and cups Noatak's chin. He tilts his head back slightly as he appraises him.

Noatak closes his free hand around Tarrlok's wrist.

Tarrlok stares back with a small degree of boozy defiance. His thumb brushes against Noatak's bottom lip.

"You still _look_ sensible," Tarrlok says. Then he lowers his hand, looks down at his drink, and says, almost as a non sequitur, "Sorry."

Noatak lets Tarrlok lean against him again.

\--

Noatak dumps Tarrlok on the bed, some time before dawn. Noatak then turns away from him and looks back at the interior of the cabin. He should probably hide what's left of the soju while Tarrlok sleeps, despite the fact that this might cause an argument later on; Noatak will probably get accused of being an alcoholic. Sometimes Tarrlok gets tired of repeating the same accusations and constructs new ones, though he does a good job of keeping them plausible.

Noatak rubs at his eyes and yawns.

Tarrlok stirs. Apparently he's still awake enough to get a death-grip on the hem of Noatak's shirt.

"Don't go again," Tarrlok mutters, face down in a pile of blankets.

Noatak lets out a sigh and sits down on the edge of the bed.

Then he concludes that the bed is very comfortable, and he lies down by Tarrlok's side.

And when Tarrlok moves closer for warmth, Noatak doesn't think about how good it feels to have another human being decide that they can tolerate you.

\--

Noatak wakes to daylight. He doesn't feel properly hungover yet, just dozy, still drunk. With any luck, perhaps he'll be able to sleep through the hangover entirely, so long as he can go back to sleep. Which might not be an easy feat.

He a few strands of Tarrlok's hair in his mouth. Tarrlok is resting his head against Noatak's chest. Noatak wants to laugh at him.

Tarrlok fidgets, and mutters something.

"You awake?" says Noatak.

"No," says Tarrlok. "And don't breathe on me."

Noatak checks his breath. It's not that bad. Still, he could do with some water. He tries to sit upright.

Tarrlok flinches. "Do you mind?"

Something seems off, somehow.

Noatak takes stock of his own body. His left arm is pinned underneath his torso. His right arm is draped over Tarrlok's hip (so perhaps it's not Tarrlok's fault that they're so close together). His left leg is slightly bent, and is in danger of getting cramp. 

His right leg is between Tarrlok's thighs.

Noatak starts to move his right leg, then realizes what it's pressing against.

...And, well, he definitely shouldn't find _that_ amusing.

"Tarrlok?" Noatak says.

Tarrlok looks up, squinting back at him.

"You, uh-" Noatak points downwards to the general vicinity of Tarrlok's crotch, before making an eloquent rising gesture with his index finger.

Tarrlok gently pushes Noatak away, then lifts the blankets and looks down at himself as if he needs visual confirmation.

Perhaps Noatak shouldn't have said anything. Perhaps Noatak should've just waited for things to pass. It's entirely possible that Noatak is an evil shit who's only drawn attention to the situation because he wanted to see Tarrlok's reaction.

Tarrlok stares blearily at the obvious bulge in his pants. Noatak notes that Tarrlok doesn't look very surprised.

"I have no idea what's going on there," Tarrlok says, then lets out a painful laugh.

"It's alright," says Noatak.

Tarrlok looks at him with such guilt that Noatak wants to recoil. The situation stops being funny.

"It's just..." Noatak begins. "You know, just..." It's too early in the morning for this shit.

"I'm really sorry," Tarrlok blurts out. "I'm... This is... I'm really sorry."

"It's alright."

"It's not. It's... How can you think this is alright?" Tarrlok sounds mortified.

Noatak rubs his eyes. The light hurts. "You, uh, probably just need to urinate."

Tarrlok doesn't run with that excuse. "I'm sorry."

"Look-" Noatak says. He's afraid that Tarrlok is going to start crying on him. Which would be deeply strange. Tarrlok - _this_ Tarrlok, not the one he remembers from years ago - has never cried in front of him, in all the months they've been together. He's not like that. He sulks, and he shouts, and he occasionally resorts to violence, but he doesn't cry.

"It's disgusting," says Tarrlok.

"I don't think you're disgusting."

"That's because you're completely amoral."

"Not completely. Look, something like this has happened before."

"What?" Tarrlok says, absently.

"You were seven years old at the time, and you woke me up in the middle of the night to show me that, well, you were having some sort of anatomical malfunction, and... I had to convince you that you weren't dying." Noatak pauses. He actually feels like an idiot for bringing this up. "Also I think I laughed at you. I shouldn't have done that. You were so worried."

"Having it happen with..." Tarrlok falters. "Having it happen when you're seven is different to having it happen when you're thirty-seven, Noatak."

"You're not thirty-seven. You were thirty-seven last year. That means you're now thirty-eight."

"Noatak, I hate myself already, I don't need you reminding me that I'm only two years away from hitting forty as well," Tarrlok hisses.

Noatak starts laughing because he can't stop himself.

Tarrlok punches him on the arm, which hurts a lot more than it used to.

"Go... Sort it out," Noatak says, while struggling to sober up.

"It's not going away."

"Apparently not. You could cut diamond with that thing. I almost feel like I should congratulate you on it. Go sort it out."

"This cabin consists of ONE ROOM," Tarrlok says. "I need privacy. Do you expect me to go outside and do it?"

"No one's around to see you," Noatak replies, and refrains from adding, 'you big petulant baby'.

"I don't care."

Noatak holds up his hands, and sits up properly so he can start to drag himself out of bed. "Alright. I'll go outside." He can wait around and watch the sunrise while Tarrlok shamefully tugs at himself.

A few mental images spring to mind. Noatak doesn't linger on them. 

Noatak kicks the blankets off his legs.

"Wait," Tarrlok says.

Noatak looks back at him.

Tarrlok covers his face with his hands.

"What?" says Noatak.

"I'm sorry."

"Yes. You keep saying that. It's fine." Noatak remembers all the exhausting times he had to reassure Tarrlok about things when they were younger. He'd thought that Tarrlok would've grown past that. 

Noatak starts to stand up.

Tarrlok grabs Noatak's wrist.

Noatak lets out a small huff of exasperation. "What now?"

"Just... Shut up for a moment," Tarrlok says.

"You're being ridiculous."

"Yes. I am aware of this. Thank you, Noatak."

Noatak finds himself wishing that he'd been an only child. "I was going outside. I thought you wanted me to go outside. What do you want me to do?"

"Honestly, I don't know," Tarrlok says, in a small voice.

"I'll do whatever you ask," Noatak says, then understands the implications of that statement. He's not sure if he meant for those implications to be there, yet there they are.

And he wonders, not for the first time: what am I to him? What effect did I have on his life?

Tarrlok doesn't reply.

Noatak screws his eyes shut. He just wants to go back to sleep. "I'm not disgusted by you. I'll be right outside the cabin. I'm not going anywhere." He almost tells Tarrlok to get a grip on himself. Quite literally, in this context.

Tarrlok still holds on to Noatak's wrist.

And because Noatak's mind has still been loosened by alcohol, and he genuinely wants to reassure Tarrlok, and they're already in this mess together, he repeats, knowingly, "I'll do whatever you ask."

Tarrlok draws a deep, shuddering breath.

Noatak is already bored with this.

He spares Tarrlok the indignity of having to say anything (or, alternatively, he takes advantage of Tarrlok's silence), and lies back down next to him. 

Tarrlok doesn't look him in the eye, but does put his hands on Noatak's shoulders, as if he's holding him in place.

"Alright?" Noatak murmurs.

Tarrlok nods slightly.

"Are you asking for what I think you're asking?" Noatak says.

Tarrlok could easily reply with, 'what do you think I'm asking?', but instead he just avoids eye contact and says, "Probably."

"What am I going to do with you?" Noatak says. The words sound warmer, and more paternal, than he'd like.

"Terrible things, apparently."

Well, why break the habit of a lifetime? Noatak just murmurs in assent. He's doesn't really have any words for what he's about to do next.

Noatak pushes down Tarrlok's pants, freeing his cock, which is still hard despite Tarrlok's obvious discomfort. Noatak waits for some sudden realization about how wrong this is, but it never comes. His mind might be picking and choosing thoughts that help to rationalize the situation, even if those thoughts are completely contradictory. The person in front of him is younger brother, who wants... comforting, in some way. The person in front of him is also an adult, who has lived away from him for years and is, in some respects, a stranger.

He can't think clearly, so he just loses himself in the present.

There's an inevitable moment of comparison. Tarrlok's hips are slimmer than Noatak's, and his stomach is softer, and there's a thin trail of hair running up to his navel, and his muscles are less defined, though he almost seems healthier; he's always been less anaemic-looking than Noatak. His cock is roughly the same size as Noatak's, though the foreskin hasn't fully retracted, and...

"You're checking to see if you're bigger than me, I'm going to hit you," Tarrlok whispers.

Tarrlok has hit Noatak before (the first time it happened, Noatak had stood there and waited for the blow without reacting, and was soon surprised to find himself on the floor), so Noatak just smiles and takes Tarrlok in his hand.

Noatak still waits for a wave of disgust that never arrives. 

Tarrlok's skin is hot and soft, and his breathing quickens at Noatak's touch. 

Noatak soon decides to ignore his feelings entirely, as they're just making things more confusing than they already are.

Tarrlok grips Noatak's shoulders harder, and keeps his head bowed as he closes his eyes.

Noatak pumps at Tarrlok's cock, and enjoys the dumb animal way that Tarrlok's hips buck, Tarrlok's breathlessness, his vulnerability, the way he pushes against Noatak's fingers, the desperate force of it. When Tarrlok finally spurts into Noatak's hand, Noatak gives him a moment to recover, then gently cleans him off with a blanket.

There is a strange sense of _this it how it should be_.

Tarrlok seems no less ashamed when it's over, but some of the tension has gone from him.

And, as Tarrlok shouldn't have the monopoly on speaking unpleasant truths, Noatak says (though he'll regret it later), "Well, it's not like that was the worst thing I've ever done to you."

Tarrlok makes a noise that might indicate amusement, or agreement, nothing more. Noatak pulls him close, and waits for Tarrlok to go back to sleep.

\--

The days pass without incident.

The nights pass more quickly. Sleeping next to Tarrlok becomes a habit, and Noatak is just grateful to be wanted. And if Tarrlok occasionally presses himself close, and Noatak feels Tarrlok's erection pressing against his hip, then... Well, it means that at least Noatak knows how to give Tarrlok some measure of respite from everything. It's wrong, but at least it's not violent. Noatak would like to believe that he knows a few things about violence, and he'd like to believe that this, whatever _this_ is, isn't it.

Noatak might also be grateful to have another body writhing next to his, responding to his hands.

In his darker moments, when Noatak is out hunting and all he can hear is the whisper of leaves, and he makes the mistake of asking questions, he wonders: isn't this what he's always wanted? Someone needy and docile. There's always been an inevitable pleasure in making other people gasp and flinch. (And if Noatak sometimes becomes hard while tending to his brother then, well, it's just an automatic physical response.)

Still, perhaps what Noatak wants doesn't matter.

What should matter is the fact that Tarrlok's temperament seems to improve. 

Tarrlok seems to drop his guard. Tarrlok talks to Noatak more. Tarrlok asks him questions without making accusations. Tarrlok has more patience for him. Tarrlok no longer looks at him like he's pitiable and abhorrent. Tarrlok wants to know his opinions and advice, and Tarrlok helps more with the countless chores they need to perform in order to survive out here, and Tarrlok asks for praise whenever he does something well. Tarrlok, in short, becomes pleasantly clingy.

(Tarrlok loses some of his boundaries. Tarrlok spends more time in Noatak's personal space.)

It almost lulls Noatak into a false sense of security until, in the dull light of an early morning, Tarrlok smiles against Noatak's chest, and murmurs, "Funny thing, I went through a stint where I'd find older men, and I'd wonder if any of them were you. Then I'd pretend they were you." 

And Noatak spends the rest of the day thinking, over and over: what else did I do to him? Did I do anything to him that I don't remember? How much of a monster am I?

\--

They carry on for a few more weeks, and then there comes a time where Tarrlok withdraws from Noatak's hand and says, "Alright. That's it. You don't have to do this anymore."

Noatak only feels relief.

\--

Tarrlok goes back to being quiet and prickly. Noatak gives him plenty of room, and studies him in the same way that a kicked dog would study its master. It looks as if Tarrlok's needs have run their course, as if lust has failed to prove itself as a worthy remedy against regret.

Then on a hot, humid afternoon, when it's too warm to do anything, as Noatak re-reads a book and Tarrlok lies sprawled on the bed, fast-asleep, Tarrlok kicks off the thin blanket that covers him, and he rolls onto his back. His legs are spread slightly, so his swollen cock protrudes lewdly.

Noatak stares at him for far too long.

Tarrlok stirs, sighing in his sleep. His cock twitches and expels a small stream of semen onto his belly.

Noatak says, very quietly, "Oh, for fuck's sake, why the hell aren't you wearing underwear?"

Noatak then puts the book down, and leaves the cabin so Tarrlok can't blame him for anything when he wakes up.

As soon as he's outside, Noatak yanks his pants down and roughly tugs on himself until he empties his balls onto the grass. The orgasm only brings relief, not pleasure. He wants to forget that it ever happened.

He grabs at a handful of leaves so he can wipe himself off, then hurries away, intent on finding something productive to do. The heat makes his skin itch.

\--

Noatak purposefully avoids Tarrlok after that, which doesn't do much for Tarrlok's moods.

Tarrlok gets into the habit of wandering to the village occasionally. Noatak doesn't know who he talks to. Noatak pretends that this doesn't bother him. He'd like to think that he can trust Tarrlok. He'd also like to think that he's not the kind of person who'd deliberately isolate Tarrlok in order to control him. The fact that they live far away from people, and that Tarrlok relies on Noatak for survival, should be an unfortunate matter of coincidence.

Besides, you can't be possessive of someone when you're trying to keep yourself away from them.

Noatak tells himself that Tarrlok can do what he likes. 

Noatak then spends a lot of time looking over his shoulder, waiting for something or someone that'll put an end to things. He sleeps lightly.

They can't live like this forever.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The consent gets a lot more dubious from this point onwards.

Noatak returns to the cabin after a hunting trip, at a time when he expects Tarrlok to be elsewhere.

He doesn't expect to find Tarrlok sitting on the bed, entirely naked, lazily stroking his cock, but that's what he gets. On the floor, within Tarrlok's reach, is a bottle of soju, which Noatak will probably need very soon.

Noatak stops in the doorway.

"If your intention is to shock me, then... You've succeeded, congratulations?" Noatak says. He almost says: _  
we're meant to have more dignity than this_ , but then he remembers that neither of them have any dignity whatsoever, and possibly never have. Really, after you've done some of the things Noatak has, you can't very well yell at another man just for masturbating, even if he is your closest living relative and you're quite sure he's experiencing just a little too much enjoyment at getting caught.

Tarrlok smiles languidly at him. "Come here."

"Why?"

"Stop being so disingenuous all the time," Tarrlok says, his smile vanishing. "Come here."

Noatak doesn't move.

Tarrlok's whole demeanour changes. He suddenly looks as if Noatak has just kicked him. "I'm not..." he begins, then falters. "I don't know. I just think, 'what's the point?' and then I think, 'why not?'"

"You're not making any sense," Noatak says.

"Probably not. I don't know what I'm trying to do anymore," Tarrlok replies, then forces another smile and holds up his hands. "I am really, _really_ bored."

Noatak still struggles to think of a way to make up for this.

"Come here," Tarrlok repeats.

Noatak moves closer.

"Take my mind off things," Tarrlok says, wretchedly.

Noatak hesitates. He could very well ask, utterly deadpan, 'Can't we just play a game of cards?'

"Oh for-.... Have you always been this dense?" Tarrlok sits back, and spreads his legs, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. 

Noatak's mouth goes dry. He wants to ask, _Excuse me? Aren't you the same person who was desperately ashamed of his own erection just a while ago? I remember when you were young and you used to blush while talking to girls. And back in Republic City, you used to bang on about traditional values, and you used to collect antiques, and you seemed like you were the sort of man who left his socks on during sex, and you know what, right until now, I honestly couldn't imagine you trying to seduce another living soul. Partly because you'd be terrible at it._

He also thinks: _Well, now I think I know what my brother's asshole looks like. There goes my last shred of innocence._

He _also_ thinks: _Actually, I don't know why I'm surprised. Hasn't he always been slightly sleazy? One could say that it's a prerequisite for going into politics. It's as if he hit the age of thirty and gained a protective layer of slime overnight._

Then: _He used to be such a nice kid._

And: _I suppose should stop staring at his dick._

"Do you want me on all fours so you don't have to look me in the eye while you do it?" Tarrlok asks.

Noatak moves even closer, and puts his hands on Tarrlok's knees with the intention of pushing his legs closed.

"Don't suddenly decide that you have morals," Tarrlok says.

"I'm worried about you," says Noatak, because he genuinely is. None of this is normal. Nothing about their life together could be considered normal, though that's hardly Tarrlok's fault.

"If it's any consolation, nothing you can do to me can make me any worse."

Noatak wants to wince at that. "I'm sorry."

"I know. And, frankly, I don't care. All you do is skulk around and look sad. Do you think that your constant misery is of any use to me? You just make me feel guilty for disliking you, which is a little backwards given that... Look, you've put me in a situation where I'm dependent on you. I just want-" Tarrlok takes a deep breath. "Sex might be the only pleasure I have left, alright?"

The situation seems unreal. Perhaps Noatak can only tolerate it because it seems unreal. "And it has to be with me? You want me to-"

"Well, by this point, I could argue that we deserve each other."

"Why me, though?"

"No idea. I guess I used to feel safe with you, and sometimes, if I don't think too deeply about things..." Tarrlok shrugs. He looks down at his own body, and studies it with resignation, as if he's just realized that he's stuck with it until he dies. "Are you going to fuck me, or did I prepare myself for nothing? Please let me know, because I have an alarming amount of goose fat up my backside and I'm not sure if I should go wash it out before my sense of self-disgust sets in."

"Goose fat," Noatak repeats.

"It's the only thing available out here."

"You have goose fat up your ass."

Tarrlok gives him a look of unbridled scorn. "Yes. What about it?"

"I, er, was thinking..." Noatak fights the urge to laugh. On a whim, he pushes Tarrlok's legs further apart. Tarrlok's cock has softened since he stopped touching it, but it still hangs a little longer and fatter than usual.

"...That if you really have to put food products up your rear end, you could've used butter," Noatak says.

"Why do you-..." Tarrlok pauses. "Wait. Was that a bad pun? _Butt_ er? Because I swear that one day I'm going to-"

"Actually, no, I was just thinking about how some poor goose gave its life so you could use it to grease your anus." Noatak screws his eyes shut. "Because you _want your brother to fuck you_." That's it. He's going to laugh. He can't help it. He has to laugh, or something in him is going to snap.

Tarrlok is silent, and for just a second, Noatak wonders whether Tarrlok will physically attack him. If he did, then Noatak would probably laugh even harder, because Noatak has a problem. But instead, Tarrlok just says, "Oh, it's worse than that. I want to be fucked by my brother who abandoned me - leading me to believe that I was partly responsible for his death - and then turned up twenty eight or so years later just to maim me and make me realize what sort of person I was. So let's have a moment of silence for poor goose who's been unwittingly involved in this sordid affair. That goose really deserved better."

Noatak now looks at him. "Maim?"

"I don't know. Maybe that's a poor choice of words. Or maybe you were right about some things. Maybe I should be thanking you for..." Tarrlok's eyes are downcast. "Never mind, I don't want to talk about that right now. Please just, ah, I don't know. Please just make me feel good."

Noatak opens his mouth to apologize a second time, but he stops himself. He looks down at Tarrlok's cock again. There have been times when the sight of it has aroused him, but now Noatak isn't sure if he'll be able to maintain an erection.

Noatak decides to say nothing, and reaches between Tarrlok's legs. Tarrlok arches his back a little, and looks oddly serious and distracted, as if he's being subjected to an invasive medical procedure rather than something enjoyable. 

Noatak waits for Tarrlok to tell him to stop. Tarrlok remains quiet.

Noatak gently searches with his fingers until he finds Tarrlok's asshole. He's able to slide the finger in without any resistance, though he can't shake the fear that he's hurting him.

Tarrlok sits bolt upright and takes a deep breath. His cock swells and rises.

"You're sure you're alright?" Noatak murmurs. 

Tarrlok slowly nods. "I'm good. Keep going."

Well, if he says so.

Noatak kneels and bows his head so he can take Tarrlok's hardening cock in his mouth. It's been years since he's done anything like this, so he has a few qualms about his ability, but Tarrlok lets out an appreciative groan all the same. Tarrlok tastes of clean skin, and salt. The smell of him is reassuringly familiar, and Noatak almost wants to bury his face in it and forget everything else in the world.

And Noatak thinks, _Why am I doing this? Not because I intend to enjoy it, surely?_

Tarrlok's cleanliness is... Interesting. The two of them live in the wilderness. Personal grooming isn't high on their priorities. (During the heat of summer, Noatak was accused of smelling like a dead animal.) But Tarrlok has gone to the trouble of washing. He's put thought and effort into this. So what is he hoping to get out of it, apart from a comforting fuck?

Tarrlok rests his hand on the back of Noatak's head, then curls his fingers in his hair as he thrusts too hard against Noatak's mouth.

Noatak tenses. It occurs to him, and not for the first time, that Tarrlok might want to hurt him.

He lets Tarrlok slip from his mouth, then stands so he can lean over his brother's body. He kisses him, though he's not sure why; perhaps because it's an actual gesture of affection, or at least a gesture of appeasement (isn't that what all of this is?) and perhaps because he's just had Tarrlok's dick against his tongue and he wants to see how Tarrlok reacts. Tarrlok initially flinches away, then gives in to it, and Noatak's cock stiffens. 

Tarrlok tastes like soju.

This is not the time for Noatak to think about how he's aroused by compliancy.

Noatak uses his weight to push Tarrlok down onto the bed. 

Noatak withdraws from the kiss, but keeps one hand on Tarrlok's shoulder as he uses his other hand to fumble with his pants, and Tarrlok keeps his head bowed so Noatak can't easily see his expression. Once Noatak is free of his clothing, he nudges Tarrlok's legs further apart, then places the tip of his cock against his asshole and slowly pushes in, trusting Tarrlok to accommodate him.

Tarrlok makes a sound of either gratitude or discomfort, possibly both, and Noatak's heart swells with something that's a bit too dark to be classified as affection. 

Noatak makes himself take shallow thrusts.

Tarrlok doesn't respond for a few seconds, and then he props himself up onto his elbows and says, "Put more effort into it. I want some compensation for the fact that I've had to tolerate you for a year."

Noatak almost stops what he's doing, but then he resigns himself to... Well, the fact that Tarrlok is Tarrlok, and he puts his hands behind Tarrlok's knees, forcing Tarrlok's legs up against his chest. Tarrlok clenches once, briefly, before opening up, allowing Noatak to push his cock in all the way.

"Oh fuck," Tarrlok says, as if he might be regretting his previous comment. He looks ridiculous, stuck on his back with his ass raised.

"When did you get so vulgar?" Noatak says, although it comes out sounding rueful.

"Excuse me, I'm sorry, does it bother you?" Tarrlok replies. "Would you rather I, I don't know, I blushed and coyly bit a pillow while my big brother put his thing inside me?"

Noatak ignores a twinge of something that he *hopes* is simple disgust, nothing nastier and more pleasurable, and then he resumes thrusting.

Tarrlok grasps at the blankets on the bed. Sweat is already beading on his skin, and there's something in his eyes that makes Noatak wary.

"Is this what you wanted for me?" Tarrlok breathes out, "To be here with you, like this? Or did you want me to become a good, normal person, you know, respectable job, large house somewhere in the North, pleasant wife, well-adjusted children, and so on?"

And there it is. It looks like Noatak had good reason to feel cautious. Noatak's movements slow, though he doesn't stop entirely.

"Why are you asking me this while I'm... Why are you asking me this _now_?" Noatak says.

And Tarrlok artfully regresses back to a state of helplessness. "I don't know."

"Do you want me to stop?" 

"No," Tarrlok answers quickly.

Noatak's patience wanes, though his arousal doesn't. Tarrlok remains tight and slippery and warm, and his cock is beautifully full and hard, as if it's the healthiest thing about him. The tip is already wet.

Noatak grasps Tarrlok's shaft and circles his thumb around the head, just to see Tarrlok squirm.

Tarrlok swears quietly and bucks his hips. "Wait," he says. Don't touch me yet. I want this to last longer."

Noatak moves his hand over to Tarrlok's hip. He should ask Tarrlok what he needs.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" Tarrlok says, before Noatak can speak.

That's not the sort of question you want to be hear while you have your penis deep in someone's ass, really. "I thought you needed space," Noatak replies, because it'll look even more suspicious if he refuses to answer.

"You felt guilty."

Noatak gives him a tired smirk. "These days, I always feel guilty."

Tarrlok looks at him with something that might be sympathy, then closes his eyes. 

"Talk to me," Tarrlok says.

"About what?" Noatak asks.

"Guilt."

"Now?"

"Yes."

"No."

"You feel guilty about what you're doing to me at the moment, but it doesn't stop you from doing it," Tarrlok says, and now opens his eyes very slightly. "No, you're enjoying it."

Noatak has endured countless petty, stupid mind games for the past few months, and he suddenly realizes that he's sick of them. "You asked me for this."

"If I asked you to hold me face down and twist my arm behind my back, would you do that too?"

Noatak catches himself thinking: _At this rate, maybe._

"You could let me know who's boss," Tarrlok says, grinning as if he knows exactly what's on Noatak's mind, "Put me in my place. It's not like you haven't had me tied up before."

Noatak stops moving.

"Why do you look so horrified?" Tarrlok says. "Like I said: don't be so disingenuous."

Noatak looks down at where his body joins Tarrlok's.

Tarrlok is his brother. 

Why isn't he repulsed?

"Come on," Tarrlok coaxes, "Neither of us can get any lower. Might as well get a good hard screw out of it. You have me all to yourself now. You could do whatever you wanted, and I couldn't stop you. What do you think you're doing right now?"

Noatak can't answer.

"Give me a good reason to feel debased," Tarrlok says. "There'd be something honest in that. Have you considered that I might resent being kept around just so you can convince yourself that you're capable of love?"

Noatak wants to speak but can't.

"Noatak?" Tarrlok says.

Noatak still can't reply.

"Too selfish to protect anyone, too gutless to admit that you're using them," Tarrlok says. "Destined to fail. You were probably doomed before you started. There's something missing from you, but you've never had enough spine to realize it."

This whole thing is a lose-lose situation.

If Noatak acts on his baser instincts, he's a monster. If he expresses remorse, he's a hypocrite.

He's been such an easy mark.

Tarrlok is now watching him. There's an unusual clarity in his gaze, and he says, with resignation rather than malice, "I should've known. You've always been a coward."

Something in Noatak gives in.

He decides that he'd rather be a monster, which is what Tarrlok's wanted all along.

Noatak covers Tarrlok's mouth with his hand and pins him against the bed. Tarrlok's reaches out in panic, but he doesn't attack Noatak's eyes or throat as he should; he only grabs Noatak's wrist and tries to pull Noatak away, his fingers digging into Noatak's skin. The pain tells Noatak that Tarrlok is using all that's left of his strength. 

Pinning Tarrlok like this is so much worse than holding him face down, because Noatak can still see Tarrlok's expression, and it still doesn't convince him to stop. 

All Noatak can hear is his own heartbeat, and the slap of skin against skin, and Tarrlok's whimpering. 

The whimpering makes Noatak's teeth itch.

Noatak does... something, he's not sure what, that makes Tarrlok cry out.

Tarrlok eventually relaxes his grip on Noatak's wrist, and then it's hard to tell if he's pushing his hips back against Noatak, or flinching at each thrust.

Might as well break what's left of him. Finish the job. He's ruined already. There's just pettiness and spite left in him now, as if he's the embodiment of every cliche about weak, scared children who go on to become tyrants. Tarrlok is both Noatak's fault and Noatak's responsibility.

Noatak fucks him to own him. He's all he has left in the world, one last person who should love and fear him.

Tarrlok's body slackens, though he screws his eyes shut. His cock releases a hard gush of come, sullying his abdomen, then twitches as it leaks out what's left, and for just a brief moment, Noatak enjoys idiotic sense of power, a feeling of _I made him do that,_ just before he realizes how pathetic this is, and shame sets in.

Tarrlok's chest rises and falls rapidly with each breath, but he's too still. He doesn't push back against Noatak in any way, not in pleasure or in pain.

Noatak realizes why he's able to pin Tarrlok's entire body down so easily. He wasn't just using his hands.

Noatak lets go of Tarrlok, and leaves the cabin, drunk with panic, terrified.

And there's still a part of him that asks: _Why is any of this a surprise to you?_

\--

Noatak can't comprehend the passage of time, but he finds himself sitting on the cabin steps, thinking about nothing in particular. He has, at some point, had enough sense to cover himself up again.

He rests his hands on his knees and studies them for a while, then curls his hands into fists and tucks them under his arms.

The cabin's floorboards creak.

Noatak senses Tarrlok standing close by.

Tarrlok drapes a blanket around his shoulders.

"I'm really, really sorry," Tarrlok says, barely audible.

The apology just makes Noatak feel sick, which probably isn't even intentional on Tarrlok's part. 

"Can I sit with you?" Tarrlok asks.

Noatak nods, not trusting himself enough to speak.

There isn't much room on the step. Tarrlok sits too close. Noatak still can't look at him.

"I'm sorry," Tarrlok repeats, more plaintive now. He apologizes with the same tone that he once used with their father. "I knew exactly what I was doing."

This could be another test, to see if Noatak agrees. It would be so easy for Noatak to tell him, _You brought everything on yourself. You asked for it. You liked it._

Or Tarrlok could just want to take the blame in order to keep the peace. 

Noatak isn't sure which is worse.

"Can you come back inside?" Tarrlok asks.

Noatak takes a moment to find his voice. "Why?"

"I want you where I can see you." 

Noatak stands, and Tarrlok puts a hand on his shoulder and steers him back to the cabin.

\-- 

Noatak lets Tarrlok pull him back down onto the bed again.

"You were right about me," Noatak says. "You win."

Noatak remembers when they first set out together, and Tarrlok only seemed quiet and morose, nothing worse. He doesn't know how he's driven Tarrlok to this point.

Tarrlok only shrugs, as if he's not sure that his victory was worth it. He doesn't look hurt or angry, just very tired. "There was a time when you made me realize who I was. I suppose I wanted to return the favor."

"I must've made it very easy for you," Noatak murmurs.

Tarrlok puts his hand on Noatak's face, and strokes his cheek with his thumb. His hand has a slight tremor. He's not come away unscathed. "Do you want to know what's... Well, do you want to know the worst thing?"

Noatak lets out a sharp laugh. "No, but you'll tell me anyway."

"You remind me of Dad right now. After you left us, and he went a little..." Tarrlok looks thoughtful. "...Actually, he was always miserable even before then, and I think that's one of the reasons why our mother stuck with him, like he needed someone to look after him, but I digress. Anyway. I knew he'd realized what he'd done."

This is yet another thing that Noatak can't reply to.

"Alright, now I regret saying that," Tarrlok says.

Noatak rests his hand on Tarrlok's. Then he curls up, hunching his shoulders and bowing his head, and mindlessly kisses Tarrlok's collarbone, seeking warmth. He's sorry, if sorry counts for anything anymore.

Tarrlok pulls him close, and Noatak yields.


End file.
